If I am going to write about the good ole days I should give you a little background on how they started for this lad.

Before there were any hippie communes there was the Whiting commune. We grew up in Ray Township of Macomb County.  Granddad had a farm on 29 mile road, part of the farm is Wolcott Mill Metro Park today.  As his kids married he gave each a parcel of land so all the Whitings and the Reed family lived in a row.  Because all the Aunts and Uncles and cousins lived so close together our early social life centered around family.  I have to believe that is why yet today I have this strong unshakeable believe that family is everything.

Right behind the farm flowed the North Branch of the Clinton River. A dam on the river created a good size pond and also created the water flow to Wolcott’s mill water wheel which turned the grist mill.  The river and pond were an integral part of our lives.  We fished, swam and during the winter ice skated on the pond.  It was not unusual for the Whiting clan to be skating around the pond on a Sunday afternoon enjoying hot chocolate and hot dogs roasted over a campfire, maybe even a smore or two.  And you know what? Never once did I hear a phone ring with some irritating ring tone.  We lived dangerously back then, none of us owned knee pads, elbow pads or helmets.  I know we should have had butt pads because some of us ended up sitting unexpectedly.

Sunday dinner at the Grandparents was the norm until Grandma got sick. The day She went home to heaven devastated our family.  She was the Grandma that taught us, spoiled us and the rock we tried to hide behind when Ma or Dad were not real pleased with us.

For supper the family sat at the dining table and talked while we ate. TV trays in front of the tube was not even considered.  Today I see couples or familys in restaurants, phones out, fingers flying.  I think vocal conversations are becoming a thing of the past.

In my younger days I probably got spanked every day. Most days I deserved it, the others I’m sure were for evil deeds that I thought I had gotten away with.

Everyone in a couple of square miles was considered a neighbor. At Halloween you have better hit every house or someone’s feeling were hurt.  Nobodies land was littered with “No Trespassing or NO Hunting” signs.  Didn’t need them, we knew where we could hunt and where not to.  We respected others property.

We weren’t special in anyway, just normal. That’s just the way most people lived.  Sure we had crime back then just not a lot.  Respect for others and friends and neighbors helping each other was just the way we lived.